


The Past Won't Be Missed

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Romance, Series: Light and Shadows, other pairing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Settling the past, securing the future.<br/>This story is a sequel to The Son Will Come Out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Past Won't Be Missed

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the sequel to "The Son Will Come Out" and will make much more sense if you've the previous stories in the series in order to follow how events have unfolded and get acquainted with the original characters involved. Those stories can be found either at the archive or on my site. 
> 
> So once again, here you'll find more of Jim/Blair and Griff/Nick. I plan to write one more story to wrap up this series, but the keyword is 'plan'.  For now, this is it. Hope you enjoy, and comments, of course, are welcome. 
> 
> Also, in case you're interested, there's another Griff pic by K9 up on my site...this time nude and in color. 

## The Past Won't Be Missed

by JC

Author's webpage: <http://www.skeeter63.org/jayci/jcmain.html>

Author's disclaimer: The characters from the TV series "The Sentinel" are not my property, and I am not making money off of them. That's it.

* * *

The Past Won't Be Missed by J.C. 

Jim Ellison was on his knees, his nose almost touching the floor, an expression of intense concentration on his face. The phone rang and after a moment's hesitation, he moved to answer it, his forehead wrinkling as he stood. "Yeah, Ellison," he said distractedly into the receiver, frowning as he walked in a slow circle around the couch. 

"Don't you mean 'Ellison-Sandburg'?" a female voice responded, and Jim had to smile at the familiar laughter that followed. 

"You know, Gigi, I think he's a very bad influence on you." 

"Aw, you're just mad because I almost kissed your man before you ever did." 

"Well, considering where your lips go _these_ days..." 

"Hey, Simon's a great kisser." 

"I'll definitely have to trust you on that. Hold on while I go get Blair." 

"Wait a minute. What are you trying to say? That I can't call just to talk to you?" 

"I suppose you can, but did you? And if you did, are we done talking about my boss' kissing expertise?" 

"Yes, I did, and yes, we are, but that does remind me.... Has Griff said anything to you about Simon? Or about me and Simon in particular?" 

"No, not really, why?" 

"I don't think he likes him or either he doesn't like me going out with him." 

"I don't know. I've never noticed anything. But it's not like you and Simon are around a lot." 

"I know, I know, but we don't get that much time to be alone as it is between our schedules, so we try to take advantage of it when we do." 

"So, then, are you thinking about staying around even though your project is wrapping up soon?" 

"Looks like Blair's been an influence on you, too." 

"Sorry, you're right...one meddler in the house is enough." 

Giselle laughed in a way that made Jim think she'd make sure to let that remark slip the next time she talked to Blair. "Uh huh, so anyway, I've been asked to put together a thing in New York, which is the real reason that I called." 

"Uh oh...why do I have the feeling that this is leading up to manual labor involving heavy boxes and large pieces of furniture?" 

"Must you always think the worst, Detective?" 

"It's called 'being prepared'. But okay, what is it then?" 

"Remember that picture that I did of you and Griff a long time ago?" 

"Uh...yeah, why?" 

"I'm doing a little show in a small gallery in New York, for sentimental reasons mostly, and I'd like to include that piece. Don't worry, it's not going to be an erotic exhibit or anything." 

For a minute, Jim thought back to the picture in question, how he'd felt when Giselle had first showed it to him. "Um...what did Griff say?" 

"I haven't asked him yet, I came to you first. Actually, I only have the sketch, so I'd have to get the painting from him, but it occurred to me that you might have reservations...even now." 

"I don't know if I do or not. Can I think about it and get back to you?" 

"Sure. There's no pressure, Jim, it's just special to me, and it fits in with the scheme of what I'm trying to show." 

"Okay, I'll call you. You want to talk to Blair now?" 

"No, I'll catch him later. Tell him that I said 'hi'." 

"Will do." 

They hung up, and Jim walked over, opening the double doors to the small room they used for workspace. Blair was at his desk, studying some notebooks, absently chewing on the leather tie that had held his hair in a ponytail earlier. Deep into Sentinel research, Jim knew. Recently, Blair had conducted a series of tests on Jim, comparing data from previous years, looking for changes, especially trying to note any decline in Jim's senses as he got older. So far, the only thing Jim was losing was his hair. 

"Okay, Sandburg, what did you spill in the living room?" 

"Huh? What?" Blair flipped some pages, looking at Jim briefly over the top of his eyeglasses, before returning his attention to his notes. 

Jim leaned against the doorway, trying to ignore the jolt to his groin, a crazy reaction he had seemed to develop lately to Blair wearing his glasses more often. He shifted, trying to adjust himself without Blair noticing, and hardened his voice a little. "You spilled something on the couch or floor...or both. There's an _odor_. Very subtle, but it's there." 

"Oh, yeah." Again, Blair looked up, then away. "Um...but I cleaned it up. I've got this special all-natural solution...guaranteed not to stain. And odorless, too." 

"For some people, maybe. It didn't smell bad, exactly, but something kept nagging at me, something different in the background that I couldn't put my finger on. Finally, I started isolating things until I got down to that supposedly odorless odor." 

Blair grinned up at him like a proud father, but didn't say anything, and Jim blushed. He knew that, even after so long, Blair still got a kick anytime he used his senses. "So, what'd you spill, Junior?" Jim asked as a distraction. 

"Um...just some beer." But Jim caught the faint reddening of Blair's face as Blair looked away. 

"Uh huh...and...?" 

With his eyes focused on his papers, Blair mumbled, "And, um...some determined spermatozoa made a run for it, and it got a little messy." 

Jim blinked at Blair a few times while he replayed the rushed words in his head. "Jesus, Sandburg," he said, choking back a laugh, "haven't you learned by now that it's dangerous for you to handle a loaded weapon without supervision?" 

"Hey, can I help it if I miss you when you're not here?" 

Blair grinned again, and, again, Jim found himself blushing, especially when he thought about his own solo sessions the week before, alone in the Chicago hotel after long days sitting through what might have been interesting lectures if Blair had been there with him. He cleared his throat, changing the subject again. "Yeah, well, wrap that up. It's your turn to cook." 

"There's some chicken marinating in the fridge," Blair said, already refocusing on his research, "and I already made a pasta salad. Why don't you do me a favor and put the meat under the broiler?" 

"How come when it's your turn to cook, I always end up doing you 'favors'?" 

"It's called 'partnership', Ellison." 

"Yeah? Then why is it when it's _my_ turn to cook, 'partnership' only extends so far as you taking the cap off of my beer for me?" 

Rolling his eyes, Blair responded, "You're exaggerating, man." 

"You're right, I'm lucky if you take the cap off of your _own_ beer." 

Blair swiveled around in his chair, giving Jim an appraising look, then turned back, tapping his fingers absently on the desktop. "You know, I've been looking at these figures, and I think I see something interesting. We should probably spend some more time testing your visual acuity. The ranges specified here..." He moved his head slightly, looking out of the corner of his eye, and as he'd intended, Jim had gone. With a chuckle, he picked up his pen, scratching a few notes, and muttered to himself. "You're so easy, James." 

Over dinner, Jim remembered the phone call. "Gigi called. She said 'hi'." 

"Yeah? Why didn't you let me talk to her?" Blair asked, talking with his mouth full, a habit that Jim actually found oddly endearing rather than disgusting. Still, he gave Blair a properly reproving glare. 

"She didn't want to talk to you. She just wanted to let me know that Simon is a better kisser than you are." Jim took a sip of water to hide his smile. 

Blair coughed, dropping his fork on his plate with a clang, and Jim leaned over and casually thumped him on the back. "She wouldn't know," Blair said, when he could finally speak. 

Jim simply shrugged in an 'if you say so' manner, and ate his last piece of chicken. 

For a second, Blair was quiet, then he grinned a little. "So, what do _you_ think?" 

After pretending to give it serious consideration, Jim slid his chair closer to Blair. "I think," he said, touching their lips together, "that you kiss okay enough that I don't have to test Simon out." He dipped his tongue in for a quick taste. 

"Smartass," Blair snorted, before giving Jim an all-out kissing demonstration, leaving Jim no doubts as to the benefits of partnership. 

Not too much later, the remains of dinner were abandoned, and they escaped upstairs, making love under the spotlight of the moon. 

It's always so good, Jim said to himself as they wound down, his toes uncurling and the echoes of Blair's climactic cries still ringing in his ears. So good and never exactly the same. He wondered if that was because his senses could pick up on so many different nuances. Or maybe it was how lucky he felt to have managed to hold onto something that he had wanted for so long. Or the simple fact that he loved Blair coupled with the knowledge that Blair loved him back... _still_ loved him back. 

Or maybe he just wasn't used to being so damned happy... 

He tugged Blair back against him, and decided to stop thinking about it and just enjoy it. "Hey, Chief?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You think Griff has a problem with Simon and Gigi?" 

Blair shrugged one shoulder. "I think Griffin likes Simon and everything, he's probably just exhibiting that classic 'Nobody's good enough for my baby sister' behavior." 

"Really? You've noticed that?" 

There was a snicker, and then Blair said, "Actually, Nick mentioned something about it. Griffin's made a few comments to him. I figured either he'd get over it, or Giselle would pick up on it and let him have it. Are she and Simon starting to think along the lines of something a little more permanent?" Blair stretched a little, his mouth opening in a huge yawn. 

"She didn't say," Jim said, smiling as Blair settled even closer. "But she did say that she wants to put a picture of me and Griff on exhibit for a show in New York." 

"Really? Mmm... Oh, yeah, that sketch she did. Nice work." 

"She made a painting from it. Evidently, Griff has it." 

"Mmm..." Blair murmured again. "So, you got a problem with it being viewed?" 

"I guess not...but it seems kinda personal." 

"It's not like you guys are naked or anything." 

"Yeah, yeah." Jim thought about the picture, thought about people seeing him and Griff displayed, not naked, unless you counted the expression on their faces. Not that it mattered anymore, it was all over and done. "You know, she sketched that the day after I met her. Showed up on Griff's doorstep early one morning, totally out of the blue, and we were..." He stopped, embarrassed, pulling himself from his memories. 

Blair nudged him, elbowing him softly in the side. "What?" 

"Never mind." 

"Jim, unless you two were sticking it to a neighbor's dog or something, I don't think you'll shock me, so you might as well tell me." 

"No way, Sandburg, that would be like showing you dirty pictures of me and Carolyn." 

"You've been holding out on the dirty pictures of you and Carolyn?" Blair asked, laughter clearly audible in his voice. 

"You clown," Jim said, affectionately. "Just forget it. I'm not telling you anything, besides, I wouldn't want you to start bombarding me with tales of your past exploits, Romeo." 

"Right, wouldn't want to show you up." 

"I just don't need to hear it, Chief." 

"Ancient history anyway, Jim." He yawned again. "I'll tell you, though, when I first saw that drawing of you and Griffin, now that _was_ a shock." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, you know, at the time I was harboring a major thing for you, and I'd never actually seen you with anybody before. I mean, any _male_ body, and in that picture, you two looked so...into each other, and you were off with him that day, and I just knew that I didn't stand a chance." 

"Shows how much you knew," Jim whispered. 

"Yeah," Blair said with one last yawn. 

A few minutes later, Blair was snoring and Jim found himself drifting away on thoughts of the past. It had been a long time since he'd thought about when he had been with Griff. A period that had been his first for so many things. He couldn't remember the number, but he hadn't forgotten the motel room where Griff had first made love to him. Or the first time that he had returned the favor. Or the memory of the house at Harbor's Point, taking Griff on the floor the first time he'd walked through the door, fucking on the couch before he'd left for the last time. 

Just a fling, on the rebound from his divorce, he told himself. A wild, wonderful, secret thing that had lasted for months. Sexually satisfying and sometimes emotionally trying. He remembered how it had ended--Griff had simply gone away from him, from his life, and it was only by virtue of an accidental meeting that they were even friends again. 

It was easy to recall how his body's appetites had been awakened during that time, but harder to think about the rest. About how he had struggled with all of the emotional issues. It hadn't been until Blair had come along that he had finally been able to fully move past them. Blair, who had wanted him, but had held back, and they had fallen in love long before they'd ever had sex. But, with Griff, it had been the physical reactions that had been strongest at first, later growing into something more. He had been sorry when it was over, missed having Griff around, but the problem had been his fear. Afraid of letting go, of getting involved, of being found out. Afraid to deal with the love that he'd seen in Griff's eyes. 

He followed his thoughts deeper, ignoring the sharp pangs he felt as he realized that he had also been afraid of the feelings he had seen reflected in his own eyes...and how graphically it had been thrown back at him in Giselle's picture. But he had kept telling himself that it wasn't love, not really, and it had been easy enough to let Griff believe that it was one-sided. Painful now to face the truth. 

Blair fidgeted against him, and Jim waited until his lover had resettled, before getting up and creeping down the stairs to stand naked in front of the balcony doors, staring at the city lights. 

It was always hard acknowledging the mistakes that he'd made with people, but in recent times he had learned the value of the relationships in his life. Reconciling with his family, maintaining a long distance friendship with Carolyn, making a lifelong commitment to Blair. The process hadn't been easy for him. He had had to learn to forgive his father, and forget the conflicts with his brother, as well as admit that he'd never really loved Carolyn the way that a husband should have, and work on simply loving her as a friend. With Blair he had wasted so much time, and he was grateful every day that the chance hadn't totally passed by him. And with Griff...there was so much he had never told him, not even once. Even though he was glad that Griff had someone who loved him the way he deserved, the feeling in the pit of his stomach was telling him that maybe he owed Griff the truth. 

* * *

"Your sister thinks you hate her boyfriend, so whatever you're doing, stop it," Jim said as he walked through the door to Griff's condo. 

Griff stared at him, taken aback. The visit had been surprise enough, Jim had called minutes earlier saying that he was on his way home from work, and that Blair was otherwise occupied at the university, so how about if he stopped by for a beer. Handing over the cold bottle that he'd had ready, Griff studied Jim's face to try to see if his friend was serious or joking. 

"What are you talking about?" 

Jim parked himself on the couch and took a long swallow of beer. "What's your problem with Simon?" 

"I like Simon." 

Another pull on the bottle, and then Jim waited. 

"He's old and he's divorced," Griff said lamely, shrugging a little. 

" _I'm_ old and divorced." 

"Yeah, well, that's Blair's problem." The joke fell flat, and Griff wasn't sure what else to say. He didn't have anything against Simon...not really. "My mother wants grandkids and Simon's already got a grown son," he said, voicing the last of his reservations. 

"Simon's a good man and he deserves some happiness and your sister makes him happy. He treats her well, Griff, so leave it alone." 

"It's none of your business, Ellison." 

"Yours either, and the fact that Gigi is worried about your reaction instead of just giving you hell should tell you something." 

"Yeah. She's serious about him. I guess that's what's bothering me. Nothing against Simon, he seems like a good guy, but Gigi hasn't really been serious about anybody since she broke with Ty. Remember that?" 

Jim blinked, thinking back, then nodded, "Got some girl pregnant, right?" 

"Right. After that she moved to New York, and threw herself into the whole art thing. She's ended up spending most of her time with me and my crowd of friends. I think maybe she felt safer hiding out with a bunch of gay folks." 

"Griff, Simon really...." Jim paused, thinking twice about revealing what Simon had told him in confidence. "Look, just don't fuck it up for her." 

"She's a grown woman," Griff said, shrugging again, "I'm not going to try to dictate her personal life." 

Jim grasped Griff's shoulder. "Good man. Saves me from having to arrest her when she decided enough was enough and kicked your ass." He drained the rest of his beer. "Where's Nick hiding?" 

"He's at the university again. Somehow during the weeks that I was off in New York wrapping up my book, he got sucked into some project. He had already told them 'no', because he'd decided to give his writing a chance, so, apparently, he's not _officially_ involved, just helping out one of his old professors." Griff snorted. "All the work and none of the pay." 

"Well, tonight's Blair's lecture night there, but he should be heading home soon. I guess I'm gonna get outta here. Thanks for the beer." 

"So, that's why you stopped by? To get on my case about Gigi?" 

There was a long enough pause that Griff was about to repeat himself, but then Jim said, "There is one other thing. Did Gigi mention that she wants to put our picture on display?" 

"What? No, she hasn't said anything." 

"She said she gave you a painting." 

"Yeah, when I bought my house, she sent it to me as a housewarming gift." Griff had had mixed feelings about the painting, because it called up bittersweet memories, but it had hung in his home until he had finally sold the house after moving to Cascade. "Did you tell her no?" 

"I told her that I'd think about it, but it's her work, she can do what she wants with it. Honestly, I had forgotten about it." 

Griff had let it slip his mind recently, too. It had been packed up and stored away; and in the condo, there was a picture up of him and Nick, also his sister's work. But, it wasn't hard to think back, remember those days with Jim. If it hadn't been for Blair, he thought, they might have tried to rekindle what once had been. He looked up, found Jim watching him with inscrutable blue eyes, and he remembered when Jim was assigned to protect him, and he had often found himself the object of that same gaze, left wondering if Jim could somehow tell his feelings. 

"She always did like you, Ellison," he said, trying to break the sudden strained silence. "It took her a while to get used to the idea that we weren't seeing each other anymore." 

"Good thing you've got better taste these days," Jim said, finally looking away. 

"Hey, you weren't--" 

"I better go, Griff. It's my turn to cook." 

Griff let it pass, nodding as he stood to walk to the door. He had easily accepted the idea of being friends with Jim, but sometimes it still felt like there was unfinished business between them. They were fine as long as they didn't delve into the past. He didn't regret their prior involvement, having known almost from the first that Jim wasn't totally comfortable with his sexuality, but he did often wish that the past meant as much to Jim as it did to him. 

When Jim left, Griff almost went and retrieved the painting from the hall closet, then thought about tracking down Nick at the university, but instead he went to his computer and lost himself in his writing. 

* * *

Jim drove home on automatic pilot, his mind preoccupied with what Griff had said, what he himself _hadn't_ said. He had stopped by with every intention of telling Griff what had been on his mind...his recollections, his revelations. But, not for the first time, he had chickened out. 

Giselle's concerns about Simon had been a valid enough excuse as well as the issue about her picture. He was curious about the painting, wondered how the sketch had translated to full color, whether the image would be just as intense as he remembered. But he had felt funny when he thought about asking to see it, his eyes moving towards the picture that Giselle had done of Griff and Nick, displayed prominently in the room. The past was past was past, and it had been rearing up a little too much lately, a little too strongly. Even as he had sat there talking, he had been unconsciously reminiscing, watching Griff, his mind briefly conjuring up an image of Griff naked, feeling a quick spark of heat, before deciding that he had to get out of there. 

All he had succeeded in doing was stirring things up, settling nothing. He should have known better. Heart-to-hearts had never been his strong suit, and he didn't want to risk losing Griff's friendship or creating conflicts where Blair was concerned, so, he decided, he'd just forget about it and let it lie. 

By the time he pulled up to the loft, he had forced himself to put aside any matter weightier than having dinner ready by the time that Blair got home. 

* * *

For a while, Blair just stood there and watched. He loved Jim for a lot of reasons, but he had to admit that Jim was also damned easy on the eyes. And at the moment, Jim was wearing only a pair of shorts, socks and sneakers, his body pumped and sweaty from the exertion of exercise as he focused on doing a long set of push-ups. But, despite how much Blair enjoyed the view, he made himself address what was on his mind. 

"So, what's going on with you and Griffin?" he asked as he leaned against the doorjamb, unconsciously imitating Jim's customary deceptively casual stance. 

Jim paused for a split second, his arms trembling slightly as he held himself up at the top of a push-up, before lowering to the floor and continuing as if nothing had happened. "Nothing's going on. I haven't even seen Griff in weeks," Jim finally said, ending his set and sitting on the floor. 

"Exactly," Blair responded. 

Instead of working out with Griff, Jim had gotten into the recent habit of taking over the spare room, pushing the furniture out of the way to clear enough space for him to do some exercises. He had even changed his running schedule, getting up in the early hours and running alone. 

"And as much as I've been enjoying this abundant display of testosterone lately, obviously, something's up." 

Jim stared at him, then took a deep breath and started on a series of sit-ups. "The only obvious thing is that you're interrupting my workout." He huffed out the words as he put his body through its paces. 

"Right," Blair said, moving into the room. "So, what is this? Avoidance? Repression? Denial?" 

Jim paused again, his body tight as he held himself upright in a sitting position. "Fuck you, Sandburg," he hissed, then resumed his exercising. 

"You could do that, but I don't think it'd help," Blair said, moving even closer until he was standing over Jim. "Hasn't so far," he added in a low voice. When Jim didn't respond, Blair decided that butting heads wasn't going to work. He turned to leave, calling back over his shoulder, "You might as well talk to me and get it over with before you burst a blood vessel or something." 

"It's nothing, Chief," Blair heard as he walked out the door. He turned around to find Jim just sitting there on the floor, and he wondered for the hundredth time what was going on. 

"Uh huh. Your 'nothing' usually ends up blowing up in our faces." He stood there, giving Jim time to open up, but finally went into the kitchen to fix dinner. 

When he heard the bathroom door close and the shower start, he was already chopping vegetables with rather murderous intent. He fixed a quick stirfry and was in the office moving his desk back in place when Jim finally emerged. There were sounds from the kitchen and then Jim was standing in the doorway, holding a beer. 

"I fixed you a plate. Not coming to eat and watch some TV?" 

Blair shuffled through some papers before answering. "Yeah, just give me a minute." 

He lingered a few minutes more then went and joined Jim in the living room. They ate, eyes on the screen and not each other, though Blair didn't think that either of them was really paying much attention to the program. When the credits of some movie were rolling onscreen, Jim asked him about the latest progress report that he had turned into Simon for the PD/University program, and about the dead end they had come up against in the case they were working, and before he knew it, it was late and they were going upstairs. 

It wasn't until the next morning when he woke up alone in bed, squinting at the clock that read 5:30am, that he realized that Jim hadn't told him a thing, and was off running again. 

* * *

The whole way up to Griff's lake house, Jim battled a persistent nervousness, and an equally persistent notion that he was still going about things the wrong way. The pungent odor emanating from the bags of food on the seat next to him did nothing to help the situation, and finally he had to roll down his windows, breathing deep to clear his head and settle his stomach. Belatedly, he figured he probably should have discussed it with Blair, before everything had started to feel like it was spinning out of control. Maybe if he had explained to Blair and squared everything with Griff, instead of letting it sit there, festering, unmentioned, but definitely not unnoticed, it wouldn't seem so much bigger than it really was. So big that after weeks of avoiding Griff, he had suddenly realized that Griff had started avoiding him in return. 

Giselle had showed up at the station one day asking him questions to which he'd given vaguely positive answers, pretending not to notice the looks passing between her and Blair. To his relief, she had dropped it, going into Simon's office, where seconds later the blinds were drawn and Jim had to adjust his hearing so as not to eavesdrop on a rather amorous greeting. Blair hadn't asked him about it anymore, and Jim was both glad and disappointed about that, knowing that if Blair had pushed him hard enough, he would have eventually gotten it all out, though the uncertainty of Blair's reaction was worrying him a bit, even while he kept telling himself that he was worrying over nothing. A private, little nothing that he had let grow into something because of guilt and fear and stupidity. 

Feeling around in his pocket, Jim pulled out his cell phone, dialing Blair's cell number, since Blair was supposed to be at the university, but no longer had an office there. When the voicemail greeting ended, Jim left a message to the effect that he was having dinner with Griff and that he'd talk to Blair later. After driving a few more miles, he called the loft and left the same message on their answering machine. 

When he passed by his brother's lakeside retreat, minutes from Griff, Jim thought about calling Griff to announce his visit, but changed his mind. A surprise seemed a better bet, seeing as how he had no effective comeback to Griff saying 'get lost'. He hadn't come all that way just to turn around and make the long drive back with cold Chinese food. 

Jim could hear the faint click of computer keys as he stood outside Griff's door. The sound paused when he knocked, resumed, and then paused again when he knocked harder. He almost laughed at the rapid shifting of expressions that crossed Griff's face when the door was finally opened; sobering at Griff's obviously disappointed 'oh'. 

"You mean you didn't order the sesame chicken and the orange beef?" Jim joked weakly, holding up the bags with a half grin. 

"I thought maybe Nico had decided to surprise me but had forgotten his key." Griff looked at Jim, his expression changing once again. "So, you take a wrong turn at Peking Palace?" 

"I thought we might eat..." There was silence, and Jim realized he was still holding up the bags. Wearily, he dropped his arms, trying to keep his voice neutral. "Can we talk?" 

"I don't know, Ellison. I don't even know what to say to you these days." 

"Yeah, look...I'm sorry about...that I've.... Hey, can we do this inside?" When Griff stepped back, Jim entered the house, heading for the kitchen with the food. "I forgot the fried rice," he started, only to be cut off. 

"I'm not hungry, Jim. Just tell me what this is all about." 

Halting his restless fiddling with the containers, Jim turned to face his friend. "It's about you and me." 

Griff winced, head nodding, "Right. You and me. Look, Jim, you're with Blair, committed and everything. I know that. And I love Nick. You know that, right?" 

"Yeah, but..." 

"I'm not trying to mess anything up, and I'm sorry if our...past makes you uncomfortable, but I'm not going to apologize about it meaning something to me." 

"Griff, it's not that." 

Light brown eyes stared, Griff's whole body still. "What," he said, after a minute, "Blair having a problem with us hanging together?" 

"Griff. Sit." Jim moved forward, hands steering Griff to the sofa, guiding him down, and sitting next to him. "Blair is fine about us, though he's probably ready to take my gun and shoot _me_ by now. I've just had something on my mind lately, that's all." Taking a deep breath, Jim looked into Griff's eyes briefly, then looked down at the floor. "I owe _you_ an apology. About before, when we were...together." He noticed Griff tensing, and he rushed on. "It was right after my divorce, and I hadn't been with...well, you know...since my teens. I wasn't ready for you. For anything really, but you deserved--" 

"Okay, enough, Jim. If you've been beating yourself up and acting like an all-around ass because you feel that somehow you wronged me, you can forget it. I'm a big boy now, and I was then, too. I knew the circumstances, and I came after _you_ , remember? I'll admit that sometimes it got to be too much dealing with the closeted issue, but I came to terms with the fact that it was just a rebound thing for you early on. Maybe I let myself get in too deep, but that was on me. I don't regret it, and I don't want you to, either." 

Jim reached out, then drew his hand back. "What I'm trying to tell you, Griff, is that I lied," he finally said, softly. "I mean, I knew how you felt about me, and I let you believe.... I wasn't ready to be 'out' the way that Blair and I are now. Hell, I realize now that I wasn't even able to admit that I had real feelings for you. When Gigi asked me about our picture, reality sort of hit me, and I thought you deserved to know that you were more than just a good fuck, I was just too scared to love you back." 

When Jim finally looked up, Griff was watching him, and all Jim could tell was that Griff didn't seem upset. 

"When I talked to you," he continued, "after your dad died...I almost...but, I knew that somebody else would be better for you. You didn't need me complicating shit anymore than I already had." 

"Jim...I always knew you cared about me. You didn't exactly hide that. I'm not sorry about what we had then, or about what we have now." Griff smiled a little. "But, thanks for what you just told me. Now, get over yourself, Ellison, because we're cool. Okay?" 

After Jim nodded in agreement, they relaxed, laughing when both of their stomachs growled noisily. 

"I guess it's finally time for food," Griff said. 

"It's cold now," Jim told him. 

"Wouldn't be the first time." 

"No, it wouldn't," Jim said, grinning, happy that it came so easily. 

They went into the kitchen, where Griff took out plates and forks, and they dipped into the food cartons while still standing over the counter. Almost in unison, they chewed, swallowed, and looked at one another before saying, 'Microwave!' shaking their heads at the shared memory of a time when cold Chinese food had actually tasted perfectly fine. 

Jim was watching Griff pull the metal handles off of the containers and arrange the food inside the oven when his pocket started ringing. 

"Blair must have finally checked his messages," he said as he pulled out his phone, flipping it open. "Hey, it's about time--" 

"Jim?" 

"Simon?" 

'Shit. I hope it's not a case,' he thought, shrugging when Griff turned to him with raised eyebrows. 

"Jim, where the hell are you?" 

"I'm up at the lake. Why? What's going on?" 

"Get down here and meet me at Cascade General. He's going to be okay, but...Blair's been shot. It's--" 

But Jim had already cut the connection, shoving his phone back in his pocket while trying to retrieve his keys, and heading for the door. 

"Jim?" 

Whirling around, Jim said, "Fuck. It's Blair. Simon says he's been shot." 

The microwave door slammed shut with a thump and a click, and Griff was by Jim's side as Jim finally got his keys in hand. "Oh shit. All right, let's go. I'll drive...make sure you get there in one piece." 

It only took seconds before they were speeding their way back to Cascade. 

* * *

Jim was out of the truck before Griff had even slowed down, hurrying into the hospital, ignoring the stares as people moved out of his way. Unerringly, he turned a corner and went down the hall, heading for Blair. He came to a waiting area and saw Nick sitting in a row of chairs talking to an older man. When Nick called his name, he only raised a hand in acknowledgment, turning one last corner where Simon was standing outside of a closed door. Simon's large palm pressing into his chest finally stopped his momentum. 

"Whoa. Slow down, Jim. He's all right. The doctor just left and said as soon as the paperwork's processed, Sandburg can go." 

Jim half-listened; his concentration focused on the other side of the door, monitoring Blair to his own satisfaction. 

"He lost a good deal of blood before the paramedics got to him, but the bullet didn't hit anything major. A fairly clean flesh wound. They gave him painkillers, so he's a little out of it right now, and when they wear off, it'll probably hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Just make sure that he takes it easy for a few days." 

"What the hell happened?" 

Simon's face twisted into a grimace of disgust. "Some idiot kid tried to sell his father's gun for some extra money. Was showing it to a potential buyer when it went off. Sandburg just happened to be walking nearby. The kid is in lockup, scared shitless." Shaking his head, Simon looked at Jim. "He called it in himself, didn't leave the scene. Spilled the whole thing to campus security when they showed up. Anyway, I'm going to handle it myself. You okay?" 

"Yeah, just wanna see him." 

Nodding, Simon clapped Jim on the shoulder. "Okay. Go check on your partner." 

Despite having calmed down considerably after hearing Blair's heartbeat and breathing up close, Jim still winced at how pale and disheveled Blair actually looked. 

"Hey, Chief," he said as he walked to the bed. 

Blair opened his eyes, blinking a few times. "Hey, Jim. I'm fine." 

"Yeah, except for the bullet wound in your shoulder." 

"Right," Blair snorted, "and the fucked-up hip." At Jim's raised eyebrows, he explained. "Hit the ground pretty hard when I fell." 

Jim reached out, taking Blair's hand, resisting the urge to check out the injuries himself. "Ready to go home?" 

"Uh huh, just waiting for them to come back with the paperwork." 

"Simon told me that it shouldn't be too long." After a pause, he asked, "Did he tell you what happened?" 

Pushing one hand through his tangled curls, Blair sighed. "Yep. Some student trying to pay a gambling debt decided to give the arms trade a go, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sure wish a faculty parking pass had come with the lecture gig." 

A large woman in scrubs came bustling through the door, holding out papers to sign, and instructions for Blair to take home, along with a prescription. Before she left, she asked if they needed a wheelchair. 

"No thanks, I'm not that out of it," Blair said as Jim helped him to his feet. Thanking the nurse as they parted ways in the hall. "So, where you been?" he asked, trying not to limp or gasp when they started walking. "I expected you to come barreling in here hot on the heels of the ambulance." 

"I left you a couple of messages. I was having dinner with Griff up at the lake." 

"Really?" Blair's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then they turned left, and he saw Nick and Griff sitting alone in the waiting area, both of who got up and came towards them. 

"Everything okay?" Nick asked, his brown eyes dark with concern. 

"Yeah, I'm used to this kind of thing from hanging out all these years with Jim. I just need to rest, exercise the shoulder a bit. Thanks for coming." 

"I'm going to take him home," Jim stated. "We'll talk to you guys later. Griff...thanks." 

Griff nodded, tossing Jim a set of keys. "E.R. visitor's lot." 

Jim nodded back, then he and Blair walked away. 

Once out in the night air, Blair halted their progress, looking up at Jim with narrowed eyes. "Jim...you and Griffin...you can tell me, really. Whatever it is, I won't... Just tell me, okay?" 

Putting an arm around Blair, pulling him closer and guiding them towards the truck, Jim replied, "You've got nothing to be worried about, Blair, I promise. And, um, I'll tell you all about it later. Let's get home." 

Blair fell asleep soon after Jim pulled out of the parking lot, and Jim took his hand, thumbing the gold ring on Blair's finger all the way to the loft. 

* * *

When Griff had walked into the waiting area, he had been surprised to see his lover there. He had been about to stop at the nurse's desk to ask about Blair, when he noticed Nick and someone vaguely familiar talking quietly. 

"Nico?" 

Nick turned, jumping clumsily to his feet, stepping away from the person next to him. "Griffin, hey, I thought you were up at the lake. How'd you--?" 

"I drove Jim here. Are you okay?" he asked, moving quickly to Nick's side, touching him gently on the shoulder, cupping his chin, looking him over. "Were you there when Blair got shot?" 

"No, I just heard the commotion afterwards. They were loading him into the ambulance when I got there. I, um, followed the ambulance in." 

"Very upsetting business, but I'm sure it'll all be fine," said a smooth voice. 

Griff looked over at the man who had moved next to Nick. Almost as tall as Griff, with light brown hair streaked with strands of gray, and green eyes that seemed to be sparkling with some private amusement. Annoyed, Griff turned to Nick. 

"Oh...uh...Griffin, this is David Parks, the professor I'm helping out. Um...David, this is...Griffin Paris." 

"Griffin. Nice to meet you," David said, smiling, extending his hand. 

Shaking the offered hand, Griff replied, "You too, Professor," his own smile fake and pasted on, though he doubted the sincerity of David Parks' pleasant expression, as well. 

"Well, Nicolas, since I can see you're in...such good hands, I'll take a taxi back to the university and get my car." 

"I can...uh...drop you back," Nick said, eyes drifting to Griff and then back to David. 

"No, no. I wouldn't want to be any trouble. I'll see you tomorrow?" 

Nick nodded and David gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before leaving. 

Griff said nothing more, but turned away, picking up a magazine from the table in the waiting area, and settling into one of the plastic chairs. He looked up when Simon came around the corner a few minutes later, listened to how Blair was doing, and then buried his face back in an article about geriatric needs in prisons, ignoring Nick's eyes. When Jim and Blair came out, all he had managed to do was read the same paragraph eight times. 

* * *

"I don't have my car," Griff said when they were alone again. "I drove Jim's truck here. Okay if I ride with you?" 

Nick jerked as if struck. "Of _course_. I...." 

But Griff had already turned to go. 

"Hungry?" Nick asked, breaking the silence as they drove out of the hospital parking lot. 

"No, I ate dinner with Jim," Griff lied. 

"How'd that happen? I thought you were going to stay up at the lake until next week?" 

"He came up, wanted to talk." Griff ran a hand over his face, shifting uncomfortably in the worn seat of Nick's old car. He glanced at Nick driving, then wearily turned his head, staring out into the passing night. "Look, were you just not going to tell me?" 

"Griffin, there's nothing--" 

"Nothing except that the professor you've supposedly been helping out is your ex-lover. A fact that you've neglected to mention all this time." 

"I'm telling you there was nothing to mention. It's a _group_ of us, and I'm not really doing anything except tossing out some ideas about their analysis." 

"You've been spending a lot of time on it for someone not doing anything." And Griff couldn't shake the feeling that he had just discovered why. "And what about your book?" 

"I'm going to get back to it, I just kind of stalled...writer's block or something." After a lengthy pause, Nick continued. "I'm sorry that I wasn't totally up-front with you, but David and I were over a long time ago." 

"I saw the way he was with you, Nico. It's not over for him, and I don't trust him." 

Nick gave an exasperated sigh. "You don't have to trust him...just me." 

Nick didn't ask if Griff did indeed trust him, and Griff didn't assure Nick that he did, and the rest of the trip was made in silence. 

* * *

At least Jim wasn't hovering, but he _was_ fussing about, and that was starting to make Blair nervous. 

"Jim, come on, man, quit it. You're driving me nuts," he said, trying to get more comfortable. 

"I'm just making tea." 

"I've had enough tea," Blair said, holding up a mug that he'd already emptied three times. "Seriously." 

Jim came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Sure you don't want anything to eat?" 

Rolling his eyes, Blair answered, "You know, with high heels and an apron, you could be June Cleaver. Now, come over here, Mom, and have a seat." 

"Ha ha, very funny, Beav," Jim quipped, joining Blair on the couch. "And speaking of moms..." 

"No way. This'll be on the 'maybe I'll tell her the next time I see her' list. Besides, it's basically just a scratch, really." 

"Right. Wait until tomorrow when those pills wear off." 

"I don't even want to think about it," Blair said, making a face, then noticed the tension in Jim's posture, the way Jim was watching him while trying not to be obvious about it. "Hey," he whispered, nudging Jim with his foot, "I'm fine, okay?" 

"Okay," Jim replied, massaging Blair's foot. 

"And we're okay, right? I mean, we _are_ okay, aren't we?" 

Jim's hand went still, and Blair could feel slight tremors in the thigh under his foot. 

"Look, Chief...about the way I've been lately...there's been something on my mind." It took a few seconds before he added, "About Griff." 

Blair bit back the urge to say, 'Tell me something I don't know', and forced himself to wait for Jim to do it his way. 

"It's not that I don't recognize things about myself sometimes, you know. I just don't always know what to do about it." 

One day, Blair thought, Jim would simply accept the fact that, even for Jim Ellison, being imperfect was perfectly okay. 

"When Gigi asked me about putting that picture on exhibit, it brought up a lot of memories from when Griff and I were together. It was a good time for me...nothing like what you and I have, but..." Jim looked at Blair, a brief glance before turning away. "It just dawned on me one night that I really was in love with him." 

Blair let out a breath, oddly relieved at that revelation, though he had to admit that he had always held tightly to Giselle's declaration that, while Griff had been in love, Jim had not. "So what? You were in love with Carolyn, too. It's no crime to have love in your past." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's not even that, really. It's just that I let him think I was only fucking around. Let him leave without ever saying anything." 

"Jim, you said you didn't even realize it before." 

"Right, and how screwed up is that?" 

"You had just been through a divorce. Throw in the whole sexual identity thing, and you were bound to have issues." 

"He was good to me then, a good friend now. I felt like I owed it to him to say something, but I still wasn't sure if I should." 

"So did you? Talk it out with him?" 

"Yeah, I launched a sneak attack on him up at the lake, spit everything out. It doesn't change anything," Jim said, shrugging, "but, he did seem to appreciate me clearing the air." 

"And do you feel better?" 

Taking a deep breath, Jim nodded. 

"Good. So things can get back to normal around here? Though I have no objections to the increase in sightings of the sweaty Ellison exercising in his domestic habitat." 

Jim smacked at Blair's leg, smiling a little. "You weren't really worried, were you? About me and Griff, I mean?" 

Blair waited until Jim was looking at him before answering. "No, not really. But I was worried about _you_ , and I was totally clueless. I didn't want to go butting in too much after that thing with your dad, though that did turn out okay in the end." 

Again, Jim playfully smacked at Blair, and they ended up not quite holding hands, fingers loosely entwined as they sat silently for a long moment, and Blair was reassured to find that it actually felt as if they were back to 'normal'...back to good. And he was content to soak that up for a while. He groaned when his bladder began making itself felt rather insistently, and as he tried to rise from the couch, Jim jumped up. 

"Wait a minute, Chief, what are you doing?" 

"I'm just gonna go relieve myself of all that tea you made me drink." 

"All right, let me just..." 

"Will you relax? What, you wanna come hold it for me, too?" 

Jim mumbled a vague apology and stepped back. 

"No, really," Blair said, using the tone of voice that he knew always got to Jim, " _do_ you want to come hold it for me?" 

Though he flushed slightly, Jim immediately moved closer, fingers of one hand playing with a curly lock of Blair's hair. "You're a sick man, Sandburg." 

"Uh huh, but you like that, don't you?" 

"Damn right," Jim answered, propelling Blair towards the bathroom, his hand making its way down inside Blair's pants and curling around the firm flesh of Blair's dick, and it was some time before he let it go. 

* * *

Jim walked to the door, buttoning his shirt as he went, already aware of who had knocked. 

"It's Griff," he said over his shoulder to Blair. "Hey. What brings you out so early?" he asked when he'd opened the door. 

"Morning, Jim. I was, um, in the neighborhood. Thought I'd stop by and see how Blair was doing." 

"He's okay," Jim said, stepping aside. "I just got him to promise to take it easy all day today." The last was directed to Blair on the couch, who only made a face at the comment. 

"Blair," Griff said, making his way across the room, "how you holding up?" 

"Not bad, considering. The hard part will be when the stitches come out. Oh, hey, thanks for driving Jim down last night." 

"No problem." 

"Griff, you want some coffee?" Jim asked, trying to gauge if there was any awkwardness between his friend and his lover. 

Surprisingly to Jim, Griff replied that he'd already had enough caffeine for one day, and the ensuing silence did seem awkward, though Jim decided maybe he was projecting his own anxiety. 

"Look, Griffin, do you need to talk to Jim? I can clear out of here for a while," Blair said, motioning towards the spare room. 

"No, um, actually, I'd like to ask you a question." 

"Sure, go ahead." 

"I met, uh, David Parks...at the hospital last night." 

"Right, he and Nick came in with me. I was walking into a bullet at about the same time that their session was breaking up. You know...the project that Nick's helping out with." 

"Well, I didn't know that's who Nick was helping until last night." 

"Ah." 

Easy to see now, Jim thought, where the tension was coming from, and he felt no small amount of relief that at least Griff and Blair weren't showing any strain with one another due to his own recent behavior. 

"So, tell me," Griff was asking, "why did they split up?" 

"Griffin...look, if Nick didn't..." 

"Nick's told me about him," Griff interrupted, "all about the man that _didn't_ smother him and always made him feel like an equal, even though I only got his name from a card and picture I saw with Nick's things after he moved in. He's never said anything bad about the guy. I was just wondering why they're not still together." 

Jim felt Blair's gaze turn on him, and he gave a tiny shrug, uncertain what Blair could or should tell. 

"Nick is _not_ messing around with David Parks," Blair finally said, watching Griff again. "Surely you know that." Griff didn't respond, just kept looking at Blair with sad, questioning eyes. Sighing, Blair continued, "I don't really know too much about it. Nicky and I weren't hanging out much then. I had started working with Jim, and...anyway, um, from what he says, when his mom got really sick and he went back to Texas, David told him that he wasn't interested in a long distance relationship." 

"And that was it?" 

"Pretty much." 

"So, they just stopped seeing each other," Griff said, nodding his head, "but didn't have a big fight or anything." 

Jim could tell where Griff was headed, but he didn't think it was the right road, and he was glad to hear Blair immediately back him up. 

"Whatever you're thinking, man, you're wrong. I don't know if they fought about it or not, but when Nick's mother was dying, David didn't want to be bothered. Somehow I don't think Nick would consider that a good thing." 

Griff only shook his head. "I pushed him into something he didn't want, wasn't ready for. Writing full time, living with me..." 

"Griffin, I won't lie. Nick's a brilliant anthropologist. He has a feel for the subject, and he was good, both in the field and in the classroom, but it was primarily a ticket for him. He had an academic scholarship to Rainier, and he made sure that he took advantage of it to get far away from home. But writing...he's always wanted to pursue that. It's his passion. And as far as I know, he _asked_ to move in with you, didn't he?" 

"Yeah, but I'd been pressing him from the beginning. I thought I'd eased up enough that he was doing what he wanted, but maybe..." Griff's words seemed to dry up, and he turned to Jim. "I hate to ask, Jim, but think you'll be able to give me a ride back up to the lake?" 

"Sure, but it can't be today. I've got to get to work in a few." 

"Actually, Jim," Blair spoke up, "I was thinking about going up for a couple of days. You're not on this weekend, and I'm sure Simon could be persuaded to give you tomorrow off, right?" 

Caught in a Sandburg trap, Jim gave Blair a look, expressing a certain amount of displeasure. 

Blair met his glare with a grin. "Hey, man, less distractions there. Nothing for me to do but rest." 

"Uh huh, I hear you, Sandburg," Jim said, giving in. "So, Griff, want to head out later tonight, after I get off?" 

"The sooner, the better. Thanks, guys. Blair...don't tell Nick that I...you know." 

Blair gave Jim a look, which Jim clearly read as ' _do_ something', and he shifted forward, mentally cursing his partner, saying the first thing to come to mind. 

"Griff, honestly, I don't think you should do this shit." He watched Griff frown, face wavering between hurt and anger. 

"What do you mean?" 

"This 'running to the lake to hole up' shit. Stay here and handle things with Nick." 

"I'm not _running_. I'm just going back to get some work done." Griff shrugged and stood up. "And maybe when Gigi moves back to New York, I might go out for a little while...just for a break." 

Jim walked Griff to the door, wishing that Griff could just be happy. He felt a twinge of regret at what he hadn't been able to give, but couldn't help feeling lucky that, with Blair, the pieces always seemed to fall into place. When Griff stepped out into the hall, Jim leaned in close, whispering roughly. 

"You always know what you want, but sometimes you just give up." 

"Jim..." 

"Do you really want to go away and leave Nick behind? You know, it's not like it was with me...he's worth fighting for." 

For a second, Jim thought he had him, but then Griff said, "I'll see you later. Call me when you're all set to hit the road." 

When Griff was gone, Jim sighed, frustated, wondering if he had said the right thing, and he wasn't reassured by the worried expression on Blair's face. 

* * *

"Hello?" 

"What the hell is on your mind?" 

"Excuse me?" 

"Nick, what is going on? What the fuck are you and David up to?" 

"Shit. Not that it's any of your business, Blair, but David and I aren't 'up to' _anything_. I'm just helping him out. You know that." 

"Well, that's what I thought, but since you didn't clue me in, I found out the hard way that David's identity was a big secret." 

"It was _not_ a secret." 

"Then why didn't you tell Griffin the whole story?" 

"Dammit, how come every time something goes down between me and Griffin, somebody's always in my face? If not you, then Giselle." 

"Nicky...you gotta talk to him and straighten things out." 

"Everything's straight. Things will settle down soon...we've both just been busy. He wrapped up one book and is deep into another, and I've been helping David." 

"About that..." 

"Don't start." 

"I told you before that if you're going to play the field, you need to be honest about it with Griffin. And if you still have feelings for David..." 

"Blair, why don't you just stay out of it?" 

"I could," Blair said, letting out a tired, angry breath, "but I'd like to think that if you saw me fucking up what I have, you'd give me a swift kick. Griffin just got everything worked out with Jim, and now..." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"What _planet_ are you on? Jim and Griffin had been on the outs for weeks, and last night...forget it. Just _talk_ to him." 

"I gotta go, Blair." 

"Nicky...." 

The only answer Blair got was a quiet click as Nick hung up. 

* * *

Nick walked the familiar halls of Rainier, calmed despite the excited buzzing around him about the prior night's shooting and the sensation inside him that his personal life was slipping out of his control. He paused outside of David's office, thinking that maybe he had made a series of unfortunate mistakes. Not taking the job the university had offered him, moving in with Griff to write the 'Great Gay Hispanic' novel, letting go of the structure of academic life and the challenge of delving into anthropological arguments. And David...it had always been so easy with him...no pressure, just easy conversations and effortless loving. 

After knocking lightly on the door, he poked his head inside the office. 

"Nicolas, come in," David said, beckoning with his hand. "How's Blair?" 

"Okay," Nick answered as he sat, realizing that he had talked to Blair but hadn't even asked. Blair had had other things on his mind--things that Nick didn't want to think about. 

Flipping through some papers, David murmured, "Good, good. And you?" 

"Fine," Nick said automatically, though he suddenly didn't feel fine at all. 

David stared at him. "Are you sure? You look...troubled." 

"Can I ask you a question?" 

"Of course." 

"This whole thing, me helping you out here--you didn't ask me for any reason other than my intellectual contribution, right? Nothing personal?" 

Leaning back in his chair, David kept his eyes on Nick's face. "Well, I'll admit that I might have been hoping..." 

Nick staggered to his feet. "I can't believe this, David." 

"Nicolas, I haven't tried anything, have I? Pressured you in any way? I've been perfectly willing to wait until--" 

"You'd be waiting forever. I'm _with_ somebody." 

"Yes, but you've given up everything for this Griffin. Your work, your position here...you can't possibly want that. And we've been getting along rather well, haven't we?" 

Slumping back down into his seat, Nick said, "We _always_ got along, David. But you weren't there when I needed you." 

David frowned. "You're a grown man. You can take care of yourself. And I've heard the problems you've had with Griffin Paris. Your birthday, for example." 

Nick's hands rubbed distractedly over his face, and he decided to not even discuss his current lover with his ex. "David, you and I aren't even friends. We're...colleagues who used to fuck. And you were okay with that, but I needed more. And for the record, I _chose_ the direction of my life, both with Griffin and my writing." 

"So then...why are you here?" 

'Why indeed?' Nick wondered, but then he could see the answer come into focus, feel the stinging truth of what he'd done and what he needed to do. Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet. "You always were able to get me to see things clearly. That's what made you one of my better teachers. Thanks." He turned his back on David's puzzled look, and went to the door. "Tell Julie and Rob that I'll email them some notes I've made, but I'm off the project." 

As he walked back down the hall, he didn't feel at all calm. His nerves were fluttering wildly, and his heart seemed to be pounding, but he was happier than he had been in weeks. 

* * *

"So, is this how it's gonna be the whole weekend?" 

"What?" Jim asked, not turning from where he was watching the moonlit lake. 

"How am I supposed to relax if _you're_ not relaxed?" 

"I'm relaxed." 

"Right," Blair said with a snort. "Any more relaxed and your face just might crack." 

At that, Jim turned around, and Blair could see him working to unclench his jaw. 

"You really worried about him?" 

"No, just...wish things had turned out better. Plus, I've been wired for weeks and then you getting shot and everything on top of that... Not to mention, that I'm better at crime and punishment than this love and romance stuff. I don't know how to help Griff and Nick...and wait until it hits Simon about Gigi moving back east." 

"Shit...I haven't talked to her lately. I was hoping she'd stay." 

"Simon was too." 

Jim turned back to stare into the night, and Blair was content to stare at Jim. 

"You know, Jim," he said, pitching his voice just so, "I kinda like you tense, body tight, nerves on edge...but only if you're naked and calling my name." With satisfaction, he watched Jim face him, noting the heat flaring brightly in Jim's eyes. "That was a hint," he added, smiling seductively. 

"Come here." The words were low and rumbling, the tone husky enough to make sweat break out on Blair's balls. 

"You growled?" Blair said, once he was next to Jim, looking up, taken anew with how utterly handsome his lover was. 

"Undress me." 

"Hey, I'm an injured man. You're going to make me do all the work?" 

Jim didn't answer, but Blair was already unbuttoning Jim's shirt, anyway, pushing it off of broad shoulders, fingers undoing Jim's fly before the blue button-down had even hit the floor. Bending a little, Jim kissed him, slow and rough. Blair broke away, eyeing Jim's bare chest, and the pants that were gaping open, the exposed boxers tented by Jim's erection. 

"I think I'm getting too old for this," Jim said, closing his eyes and pulling Blair against him, his breath hot and moist near Blair's ear. 

Blair slipped one hand into the front of Jim's underwear, the other snaking down into the back. "Too old for what, Jim? This?" Grasping the base of Jim's cock, stroking slowly up its length to the slick tip. "Or this?" Squeezing one firm cheek of Jim's ass, fingertips creeping between to gently tease the puckered opening there. 

"Bed, Sandburg," Jim gasped. 

"As long as you're up for it," Blair said, cheekily, letting Jim go, grinning as Jim pushed him hastily down the hall to the nearest bedroom, thinking that he was totally ready to climb on top of Jim, ride him, and indeed do all the work. 

* * *

Nick had learned his lesson well months before, so he resisted the temptation to toss aside his cell phone in frustration, not wanting to risk it falling out of reach while he was still driving. He placed it in his pocket and beat impatiently on the steering wheel with his thumbs, careful to keep his eyes on the road, though his mind was occupied. Griff wasn't answering his phone, neither was Blair. The best Nick had been able to do was leave messages as he sped up the highway, hoping he wasn't making the trip for nothing. He had been trying not to feel angry, but anger was infinitely better than the unhappiness and distress that kept trying to overwhelm him. He jumped a little when the muffled chirp of his phone broke into his thoughts. 

"Yeah?" 

"Nick? What's up?" 

"Blair, where are you?" 

"Up at the lake with Jim." 

Nick let out a breath, the tightness in his chest loosening just a little. "At Stephen's or Griffin's?" 

"Stephen's." 

"So, did you drop Griffin off at his place?" 

"Yep, a few hours ago" 

"Okay, good. But, damn, I wish you had told me you were going to do that." 

"Nicky, you hung up on me, remember?" 

"I know, I know. Shit. I'm sorry. Look, I'm on my way up there, I just wanted to make sure that's where he was." 

"Are you all right?" 

The tightness returned, and Nick forced himself to take deep breaths. "Blair, he, uh, he..." He could feel the sorrow filling him up, and he took a few more deep breaths, trying to refocus on the anger that was also still smoldering inside him. "Never mind. I'll take care of it. After I apologize for some stuff, I'm gonna kick his ass." 

There was a chuckle from Blair, who then said, "Now you're talking. You be careful on those roads." 

"I will. Bye." 

"See ya." 

After stuffing his phone back into his coat pocket, Nick concentrated on getting to his destination in one piece. 

* * *

It was with some trepidation that Nick pulled in behind Griff's truck, but he got out and walked purposefully up to the door, fumbling only a little with his keys in the dark. He shivered a bit, and told himself it was only the cold mountain air, which he breathed in deeply, hoping to clear his head. 

Inside, there was a fire going, and a quick look around showed Griff dozing in a chair near the warmth. The sight of his lover made Nick's stomach do lazy somersaults and he fought a rising wave of nervousness. When Griff's eyes fluttered open, the flash of happy surprise in them was quickly extinguished, shuttered behind a stony exterior, and Nick moved forward trying not to panic. Once again, anger rescued him. 

"So, you were just going to give up on me?" His voice was sharp and loud, and it felt so good to let it out. "I had already finished fixing dinner for us before I even found your note." He shook a fist at Griff, shocked to realize that his hand was still clenched tightly around a crumpled piece of paper, which he dropped to the ground as if it had suddenly burst into flames. Struggling to keep breathing, he all but deflated at the continued flatness of Griff's gaze, and his voice took on a note of defeat. "You weren't even going to talk to me?" 

"Nico, I left a note, just for that reason. So we wouldn't have to talk. You don't like confrontations like this." 

Griff sounded so weary that Nick ached at having allowed them to drift so far apart. "You made me promise that _I_ wouldn't just give up on us. After last time, I told you that I would always stick around and work things out." 

"Yesterday, you also told me that there was nothing to work out. So, somebody had to put us out of our misery." 

"I can explain..." 

"You don't need to, and it wasn't necessary for you to come all the way up here." 

"You weren't answering your phone, I had to--" 

"I wanted to be left alone." 

"So, that's it? You just want me to go?" 

Finally, Griff looked at him, a spark of something shining briefly in his eyes. "You know that I don't, but I don't know if you should stay, either. But there's no point in you driving back this late, especially in your car." 

"I have yours." 

With a grunt, Griff said, "Still...I'll...um...I'll go over and stay with Jim and Blair." 

Eyes wide and disbelieving, Nick exclaimed, "You won't talk to me and now you don't even want to stay in the same house with me, either?" 

"It's not that..." But Griff's face went blank again. "Fine," he said as he stood, "I'm going to go to bed," and he walked off in the opposite direction from the bedroom they usually shared. 

When the house was quiet, Nick finally took off his coat and sat down, remembering that he hadn't brought clothes, or toothbrush, or anything at all with him except that cursed note, and he was starving, though he didn't think he'd really be able to eat. He went down the hall, took off his shoes and lay down on the bed that still showed signs of Griff having slept there days before. His mind traveled to Griff on the other side of the house, and he searched desperately for a viable solution. Coming up with nothing, but unable to shut off his thoughts, he got up, took Griff's laptop and went out to sit by the fire. Once the computer booted up, he began to write. 

* * *

Nick sat back down on the floor, watching the fire burn out as he sipped on a cup of coffee. He was tired, having worked feverishly through the night on Griff's computer, caught up in a cathartic release of words. Even so, more than once, he had had to stop himself from venturing down the hall to Griff's bed, to shake him awake so they could talk, or maybe just to slip in next to the familiar warmth. When the sun had started to lighten the skies, he put on a pot of coffee, knowing that the scent would draw Griff out. A number of approaches had occurred to him, but by the time that Griff actually appeared, he had only decided that whatever he did, he would try again and again until his message got through. He would not let Griff's note be the last word. 

Rumpled and disarmingly sexy, Griff blinked blearily in Nick's direction, then headed straight for the kitchen. Nick waited until Griff was pouring and then got up, positioning himself so that he had effectively penned Griff into the small space. 

"Okay for us to talk now?" 

Griff leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter, his mug held between both hands. "Nico, I'm just trying not to keep messing up with you. Seems like I've been doing it wrong for so long." 

"Will you just hear me out? _I_ was wrong, okay?" Nick reached out, but withdrew his hand when Griff flinched a little. "I was wrong, and I have been all along, because, basically, I've been scared...of this...of you. It took all of my courage to even ask you out, you know. I was terrified of making a mistake. My same old problem... always on a mission to absolutely not fail. I've told you that before. Remember? How I've felt that I need to constantly prove myself because of how people may view my racial heritage or sexual orientation? And I've had successes--my academic achievements came easy to me, and David made no demands on me, so that was easy, too." 

Knowing that he had to tell everything, Nick pretended that he didn't notice Griff's reaction to David's name, and continued on. 

"For me, not taking a job in order to write full time was almost like stepping off into space, no net below, unsure if my parachute will open. But, when I was talking to David yesterday, I realized that I've just been reaching back to that place where I could do no wrong. Being with you has been challenging. You've needed me in ways that I wasn't used to, and I found myself wanting things I hadn't planned on." 

Swallowing convulsively, Nick continued, his voice harsher, but quieter. 

"And you're right, I've always avoided confrontation, but I love you and I don't want the fucking condo if you're not living there with me, and I don't want you to move away anywhere, unless I go, too, and I was so _pissed_ when I read that crap in your note, that I came up here looking for a fight." He paused, watching Griff's face closely. "But I expected you to fight back. I'm really, really sorry if I've taken the fight out of you." 

Remembering Griff's earlier reaction, Nick didn't try to touch Griff again, hesitating only briefly before stepping back. 

"I'm gonna go," he said, looking down at himself. "I didn't bring a bag or anything." Eyes going back to Griff's face, he wondered if anything he'd said had made a difference or if it was too little, too late. He picked up something from the counter. "I owe you a disk...seems I'm no longer blocked." The smile that crossed his face was sad and small, and he made himself turn away, even while a chant was reverberating through his head--'don't let me go...don't let me go....' Repeating over and over until he was outside and in the car, absurdly grateful that, though they burned, his eyes remained dry. 

He pulled away from the house, suddenly feeling the full weight of having had no sleep; his muscles stiff from hours spent sitting on the floor. His unwashed body, and two cups of coffee that were sitting badly in his otherwise empty stomach, didn't help either. And he wasn't too proud to wish for a little comfort, even if it only came in the form of a shower and a meal. 

* * *

"Ellison." 

"Hey, Jim, it's me. I'm just checking in so that you won't be looking for me. Um...Nick was here, and I need to catch up to him to talk, so I'm getting off my sorry ass and going back to Cascade." 

"Well, you might want to rethink that." 

"What? You were the one on my case about fighting and not giving up. So how come--" 

" _Griffin_ , I meant about driving down. Nick's _here_." 

"Oh, oh. Okay, I'm on my way." 

"Wait. Don't you think you guys would rather hash this out without an audience?" 

"I might need the backup," Griff said, chuckling bitterly. 

"It'll be fine. I'll send him over." 

"You think he'll come back here, just like that?" 

"I have a feeling it won't take much persuasion." 

"Is he okay?" 

"We got him clean and fed. The rest is up to you." 

"I'm on it." 

"Good." 

"Blair doing all right?" 

"You could say that. In fact, you might say that he's, uh...coming along very well, if you know what I mean." 

With a more genuine laugh, Griff said, "I hear you, Jim, so I'll let you go. And, thanks." 

"Anytime, Griff. Anytime." 

* * *

Feeling refreshed--showered, shampooed, dressed in a pair of Blair's sweats, plus full enough from the sandwich and juice he'd been given--Nick tried to control the smile that kept threatening, though he could do nothing about the bubbles of hope that were rising inside him. But he was still nervous; he hadn't been prepared for Jim telling him that Griff had called so soon wanting to see him. He hadn't told Jim and Blair much about what had happened, only that things hadn't gone well and that he needed to get a little sleep before trying to head back. They hadn't asked any questions, not even after Griff's call, and he hadn't needed any discussion to decide whether or not to go. 

By the time that he was out of the car, the door to the house was opening and he could see Griff standing just inside, and he hoped that was a positive sign. Moving closer, he was encouraged to see that Griff was watching him with definite interest, and not that dead tired expression from before. He was barely over the threshold before Griff had moved in, close but not touching, eyes serious and intent, cornering him so that his back was up against the closed door, and he braced himself, fully prepared to deal with whatever Griff dished out. 

"I'm still not sure that you're ready for this. I think that all I did was push what I wanted onto you." 

Griff's voice was deep and soft and warm, and Nick almost sagged in relief. He had been ready for something more aggressive, but he could do calm, making his own case positively in counterpoint to Griff's. 

"I just need you to give me another chance." 

"You don't have to prove yourself to me, Nico," Griff said, shaking his head, "I can't even say that I would have been strong enough to stay away. I _want_ us to be together. The past year has been...." 

Griff shrugged a little, half-smiling, love showing clearly on his face. Feeling suddenly warm, Nick couldn't imagine ever not loving him in return. 

"But to make everything clear," Griff was saying, "you don't have to be a writer to be with me. That's not why I supported you in that. You can get back into anthropology or whatever you want, work in whatever you choose. It's always been your decision, and doesn't affect how I feel about you. If you want to see...other people," he said taking an audible breath, "I can't say that I'd like that much, but I'd be willing to give you the time and space you need to figure things out for yourself. Whatever you want, Nico." 

Nick straightened up from where he had been leaning back against the door, and made sure that he maintained eye contact. 

"I want you to pick a time and place where you can invite your family and friends to come hear me pledge my trust and love and fidelity, and tell you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you." 

"Nicolas...don't. You don't have to..." Words husky with emotion. 

"I'll admit that I was scared, Griffin, but I do know what I want. And it's not to teach at Rainier, or be out doing field research. I don't want to be with David Parks or anyone else. I want to be with you. Living with you, making love with you, growing old with you, building a life with you. And I'm committed to making that work. I'm sorry if it hasn't seemed that way recently, but I mean every single word." 

Griff's hands went to Nick's hair, feathering through the length, pulling Nick's head closer for a kiss that was sweet and long, and Nick trembled at how much he had missed that. 

When they finally broke for air, Nick gasped, "So, you just gonna leave a guy hangin'? What do you say?" 

"What if I say, 'Let me think about it?'" Griff asked, eyes bright and mouth curling up a bit in a smile. 

"I'll say, 'okay', as long as you know that I'm going to use every trick in the book to convince you to say 'yes'. Starting now..." 

He reached out, touching Griff with eager hands, kissing him breathless, before tugging him towards the couch, though they didn't quite make it that far. Later, on the floor, their bodies momentarily satisfied, their hearts once again full of one another, Nick watched Griff build a fire, but right after that, they were back in each other's arms. 

* * *

Jim moved in place restlessly, shifting his weight from foot to foot, but resisted tugging at his collar when he caught Blair's eye from across the room. Relaxing a little, he let his emotions show on his face, smiling lazily, and settled into an almost-pose as Blair watched. He knew how much Blair loved him in a tuxedo. 

Having just extricated himself from an uninteresting conversation with an equally uninteresting art critic, Jim had been enjoying a moment alone, but otherwise he had been having a good time. The black tie unveiling of Giselle's mural project had been a great success, and the local artists and art students that had been invited to exhibit pieces dedicated to the mural's theme of 'Diversity' had not disappointed, either. After a few speeches, guests had been free to browse and mingle, and for the past hour had been doing so. 

Jim saw a group of people that he didn't know descend upon Blair, so he turned his attention elsewhere. To his right, he caught sight of Giselle and Simon having a private moment of conversation in a corner of the room. Though Simon was smiling, Jim could sense the restrained tension rippling through his friend, and knew the reason for that: Giselle was set to leave in another week. The closer to Giselle's departure date, the edgier Simon had become. Jim thought that Simon should have just asked her about staying on, but Simon had refused, resigning himself to a long distance relationship. Over the past year, the two had gotten extremely close...closer than Simon had thought possible, and Jim had the feeling that Simon was simply too afraid to rock the boat. 

At least Griff had lightened up where Simon and Giselle were concerned; though Jim wondered if that was merely because Giselle was moving to the other side of the country. He looked around for signs of Griff and Nick, but didn't see either one. After a minute, he focused his hearing, trying to pick up their voices, scanning the room once, then again, before he thought he had something. Concentrating a little harder, Griff's voice came in clearly. 

"Have you lost your mind?" 

"Shh...do you _want_ us to get caught?" Jim heard Nick whisper back. 

"We have a perfectly good _bed_ at home." 

"Griffin, where's your sense of adventure? Didn't you ever sneak away to make out in a closet or anything when you were young?" 

"Keyword being 'young', Nico." 

"Do you have to make this so hard?" 

There was a low, sexy laugh. "I thought that's why you dragged me in here." 

"Ah, so does that mean," Nick was saying amidst the sound of rustling fabric and snick of a zipper, "that you're finally getting with the program?" 

"There are 250 people within shouting distance of this place, you know." 

"Then don't shout," Nick deadpanned. 

Then Jim could hear more rustling and fumbling, some indistinct moans, definite kissing sounds and heavy breathing. He wasn't exactly sure what they were doing, but he felt he could come up with a pretty close picture... When someone showed up beside him, he barely kept from jumping. 

"What's your problem, man?" 

Jim only managed to stammer out some incoherent reply, knowing that his face was turning red. 

"Spill it, Ellison," Blair said with a mock glare. 

"I was just...uh...trying to find Griff and Nick. Didn't see them, so I thought I'd use a little Sentinel-hearing." 

"Yeah, so...and?" 

"And...um...I found them." He continued when Blair just stood there, obviously waiting for more information. "Some place nearby, and, uh...." 

Blair grinned mischievously. "Oh yeah...probably the auxiliary A/V room. I remember it well. Hold up, Mr. 'I never use my powers for anything but good', are you saying that you _eavesdropped_ on Griffin and Nicolas doing the nasty?" 

"They weren't doing...it, _yet_ ," Jim whispered, pulling Blair further away from some people standing nearby. "And," he added, "I hadn't planned on listening in, I was listening _for_ them, and before I knew it..." 

Blair smirked and nudged him, but didn't comment, instead changing the subject to Jim's relief. "I'm happy for them. That things are working out." 

"Yeah, they're really excited about having a commitment ceremony, though after two weeks of talking about it, they still haven't decided anything specific." 

"Speaking of excited...you ready to head out of here and find something more stimulating to do?" 

"Whenever you get tired of soaking up culture, Dr. Sandburg." 

"I was hoping you could make me a better offer." 

"Let's say goodbye to Giselle and Simon and I'll see what I can come up with." 

Laughing, Blair nudged Jim forward to say their goodbyes, and they left the main hall, stepping into a corridor. As they passed by a door with a sign that read, 'Authorized Personnel Only', Blair knocked loudly on it a few times, but kept going. For just a few seconds, Jim listened to the muffled curses of two surprised voices, then joined Blair in snickering at their friends. 

It was good to see that they all had seemed to settle the past, and Jim hoped that Griff and Nick were finally in step with their relationship. Reaching out, he put a hand on the small of Blair's back, encouraging him to pick up the pace, thinking that Griff and Nick had the right idea for the evening, but he'd rather get home where he and Blair could express themselves a little louder and a whole lot longer. 

END 


End file.
